


Too Little, Too Late

by LostSaturn



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deathfic, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Has Issues, Torture, but tbh don't we all?, i just haven't thought of it yet, i promise i have an excuse for writing this, i'm a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostSaturn/pseuds/LostSaturn
Summary: Tony's made a lot of mistakes over the years. Too many.But Peter's ready to pay for all of them.(Alternatively: shameless Peter whump. Seriously, shit gets real here. Sorry if you're scarred for life.)





	Too Little, Too Late

Tony had never wanted to be a father.

But now, as he fights against the guards holding him back and shouts Peter’s name until he’s hoarse, as the fight leaves his body and all he can do is sob and shake and tell the kid that it’s almost over, that he’s so goddamn proud of him and he wishes they had more time---Tony realizes that it wasn’t ever about _wanting._

No, it’s not about whether Tony wants to be a father.

It’s about whether he deserves to.

And he doesn’t.

He’s known it for a while now---this crushing, inevitable feeling that’s been chasing him since the first day he laid eyes on a certain curly-haired kid from Queens.

He’s known he doesn’t deserve Peter since the day they met, doesn’t deserve the spark of trust in his eyes when they land on him, like the kid somehow always _knows_ that they’re going to be okay, _knows_ just because Iron Man is there with him. Iron Man will always protect him.

He doesn’t deserve the kid’s warmth as his small body leans into Tony’s side on the couch, a mug of steaming hot chocolate almost slipping from his hands as he nods off to the closing credits of Star Wars.

He doesn’t deserve to drape a gray wool blanket around the kid’s shoulders, to carry him up to bed and press a kiss to his forehead and watch his chest rise and fall with each slow, steady, _peaceful_ breath, knowing he’s safe and alive and _okay._

He doesn’t deserve to card gentle fingers through Peter’s curls to calm him down from a nightmare, doesn’t deserve to rock him back to sleep and murmur the soft outlines of a lullaby as he watches his boy’s eyes slide shut.

Someone else should be doing it. Someone that can protect him.

Not drag him into more danger.

They had been on a mission when Peter’s “Spidey-Senses,” as he’d dubbed them, went haywire.

The kid went down first.

Tony had heard him on the comms, heard his ragged breathing and scream of pain as they speared a knife through his leg.  
  
But the billionaire was too far away. He couldn’t fly fast enough, couldn’t save his kid.

And then someone had shot him out of the sky, and his last thought was of Peter as he plummeted to the ground.

Tony wishes he’d stayed beside the kid that day. He wishes a lot of things had been different.

But he’d fucked up, and now Peter was paying the price.

God, why did it have to be _Peter?_

The kid screams again, his body convulsing as the leader of their attackers---a man named Liam---roots a knife in his arm with a sickening _squelch_ , the blade cutting deep into the table Peter’s laid across.

A lab table. As if the kid---his kid---isn’t alive, isn’t bright, laughing, human _Peter_ , but an object to study. To rip apart like a dry turkey.

Tony swallows blood and bile, his head spinning.

“Tell me, Stark…” The man’s eyes spear straight through Tony’s lungs. “Do you know what it’s like to watch the people you love die, just out of reach? Do you even _understand_ how it feels?”

Peter’s heaving long, gasping sobs now, tears trailing through the blood and dust across his face. His curls are splayed in sweaty heaps across his forehead, and Tony’s hands itch to brush them off, to hold the kid and make his pain melt _away._

But he can’t.

So he begs helplessly, his heart splitting at the seams.

“Please….” The word feels like ash in his mouth. “He’s just a kid. Whatever you have against me, just…..leave him out of it. _Please.”_  
  
Peter turns his head to look at Tony, pain clouding his eyes for a moment as they land on the billionaire. But then they clear, and….and Tony breaks.

That trust is still there, still strong and bright and so, _so_ innocent. Naive.

What’s the point in believing in something too broken to even fix itself?

Tony holds his gaze, struggling against the guards once again to reach Peter.

And Liam just fucking _laughs._

“That’s the irony of it all, Stark. Your weapons killed my family all those years ago….did you think that by turning _yourself_ into a weapon, you’d make us forget all the other ones? All those people you’ve murdered, and been celebrated for?”  
  
Liam yanks the knife from Peter’s arm, and the kid bites out a strangled gasp of pain. “I want you to know how it felt when they died. How it feels when your kid will die.”

God, no. Please, please, please….. _no._

And Peter, goddamnit….he locks onto Tony with that endless, unflinching gaze. And despite the tears sliding down his face, despite the pain that ravages his every molecule---Peter forces a smile.  
  
It looks too much like a grimace to be real.

“I-it’s okay....” He breathes the sentence so softly Tony can barely hear it. Blood dribbles from Peter’s lips as he strains to push the words out. “I l-love you, okay? It's gonna b-be....alright....”

“Pete….” Tony can’t think. Can’t even scream.

Peter’s going to die.

His kid is going to die.

Tony can’t bring himself to imagine it. It doesn’t seem possible. 

Maybe everything will end the moment his kid does.

Maybe, without Peter Parker to hold it together, the world will just crumble and fall away.  
  
Like dust on the wind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter has never known pain like this.

Tony’s pleas cut through the air as the kid’s slammed onto the ground again, Liam’s boot lodging just below his shoulder. He raises the crowbar in his hand, and Peter’s too weak to even shield his face as another blow crashes against the side of his head.

Every breath feels like the last. Agony wracks his body, and he shudders, the icy cold ground cutting deep into his bones.

_And if you died, I feel like that’s on me._

Another blow lands, and Peter screams when he feels his ribs splinter beneath his flesh. His back arches for a moment, and pain whites out his vision as he collapses back onto the ground.

_I don’t need that on my conscience._

Liam stomps his boot down on Peter’s arm---hard. The bone snaps back, and Peter’s screaming again, his voice raw and throat ripping itself apart.

After a moment, Liam stops, cocking his head like a vulture surveying its prey.

Peter trembles below him, gasping desperate sobs and pleas to stop, wishing it would just _end_ already. Wishing Tony wasn’t here to see this.

_TonyTonyTonyTonyTony._

The boy coughs, lurching as another wave of agony spikes his stomach. He can feel the blood sliding from his lips.

“Everything okay down there, Pete?” Liam leers. But Peter ignores him.

Instead, he forces his head to the side, locking eyes with Tony.

God. His mentor looks destroyed, every inch of him shaking and tense and _horrified._ Peter wants so badly to let Tony pull him into a hug, to hear that it’s all going to be okay and that they’re gonna get out of this.

But something tells him that this time, they might not be so lucky.

At least they haven’t hurt Tony yet.

But if they do, Peter won’t be there with him.

He misses him already.

The kid tries to convey all this with one look, but it’s cut off short as he coughs and shudders again, his head falling back against the cracked tile. The world around him spins.

“He’s done, Liam,” Tony gasps out. Peter shakes, sticky dark blood coating his hands as they lift to touch the wounds on his stomach. “Just let him go.”

“Why don’t we let him make his own choices?” Liam grinned. “Helicopter parenting never did anyone any good.”

The man lowers his face until it’s beside Peter’s, his breath coming out in hot, rushing waves. His hands, bloodstained but steady, reach up to comb gently through Peter's hair. The kid flinches from the touch. 

“What do you say, Pete? You wanna have a break, and I can switch over to Stark?”  
  
He just wants the pain to end. He just wants the pain to end. He just wants the pain to end.

Peter opens his mouth to reply, but a jolt of agony stabs his gut and he cries out instead. Tony struggles against the guards, screaming something Peter can’t make out.

He wouldn’t ever let them take Tony. Not even if it killed him.

“What was that, kid? You want to switch?” Liam sneers.

“N-no….” Peter somehow manages to force the words out, but they feel like sandpaper against his throat. His voice is hoarse, and in the corner of his eye he sees Tony wince at the sound.

“No?” Liam shrugs and straightens up. “You hear that, Stark? He wants more!”  
  
“Kid---” Tony’s shaking now. “I can take it, okay? Pete, you’ve gotta get outta there, or---”

“No.” Peter turns to look at him, determination swelling in his chest as his eyes settle on Tony’s face. He isn’t letting them hurt Tony. Not after everything he’s been through.

Peter feels Liam’s foot nudge the side of his face, and he shivers, the freezing cold of the stone floor seeping through his thin, tattered clothes.

Then, without warning, a crushing pain shatters against his leg, and Peter lets out a bloodcurdling scream as his bones splinter.

“ _STOP!”_

 _Stopstopstopstop._ Peter reels desperately at the sound of Tony's voice, curling instinctively on his side to face it. 

He doesn’t understand anymore. Doesn’t know left from right. Past from present. Reality from delusion.

Peter’s eyes begin to slide shut, and suddenly he’s running in Queens, cursing cause he’s late for school already and May’s gonna kill him if he gets detention again.

_Shit._

But his legs buckle from beneath him and he collapses, the sidewalk painted red with his blood.

“He’s done. He’s _done._ ”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Agony writhes up his arms, his torso, his legs. Peter lurches, blood spilling as he coughs violently. No matter how hard he tries to suppress them, the screams escape, strangled and shattering and _painful._  
  
He’s so, _so_ tired.

The crowbar clatters down on the ground beside him. He can hear it land next to his head.

And, in its place---

Peter gasps as something jams hard into his side, sending volts of pain charging through every limb. He can’t even scream. Can’t think. He feels himself thrash on the ground, lurching upwards as the pain grows stronger.

It won’t stop.

Will it ever stop?  
  
Peter tries---and fails---to pull in a shallow breath. Any ounce of coherent thought escapes him, replaced only by shooting agony, and he feels his body begin to lose its battle.

But then it stops. Peter falls back, his head hitting the split stone tile, and he trembles.

Liam’s voice drifts down as Peter flutters his eyes open, gasping long, rasping sobs.

“Remember who did this, kid. Your Tony is a murderer. And you’re paying for his crimes.”

_Your Tony is a murderer._

“No.”

The word has to claw its way up his throat, and Peter trembles with pain just from the effort.

Liam pauses. “What?”

“Not….Tony’s f-fault....” His voice trails off, and Peter doesn’t even have the strength to continue. He just focuses on drawing more sharp, painful breaths, hoping that Tony understands.

“God, Pete. _Peter.”_

_I’m sorry._

His vision is blurring. Black spots dance over Liam’s face as Peter watches him lean down and jam the rod into his body again. Electricity courses through him, pain screaming in every molecule, and he knows he's long gone.

His eyes are already drifting off when the darkness finally takes him.

“Just for that, I think we’ll keep going.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter’s listless by the time Liam stops, his small, broken body sprawled in a glassy pool of blood. Tony gags, every fiber of his being shuddering as he strains toward the kid.  
  
“Just let me hold him,” He pleads. Liam raises an eyebrow, but he stays silent. “He’s just a kid. I can’t….I can’t let him die alone.”  
  
And, to his surprise, Liam shrugs and waves a lazy hand. The guards release Tony, and soon they all file out in a line, Liam at the lead.

And Tony is left alone with his kid.

God, it’s bad. Every bone in his body looks _shattered_.

Peter’s left arm and leg are twisted at nauseating angles, his eyes half-closed and sharp with pain. Bruises mottle his skin like dark paint, and his lips are bloodless, face practically white. Every so often he shudders, lurching up with a cry of pain and gagging on his own blood.

But the worst of it all is his stomach. Blood pools from cuts on his abdomen, melting onto the ground and gathering around him like a protective barrier. Peter’s hand is rested atop it, shaking subtly as he groans.

But the kid’s eyes are fluttering open, locking immediately on Tony’s face. They don’t move away.

He’s still struggling, still fighting to stay awake, and the kid tries to lift himself up and crawl towards Tony.

The billionaire’s heart drops as he realizes just how hurt he is---Peter cries out in pain the moment he tries to move. Tony’s hands shake as the kid collapses back onto the ground, shivering.  
  
“I...” The kid swallows. “I’m n-not gonna make it, am I?”

“It's alright, Pete...” He moves as fast as he can to Peter’s side, cupping a hand beneath his head and lifting him gently onto his lap.

“T’ny...” Peter’s voice is thin as he breathes Tony’s name, but he’s still coherent. Conscious. That spark doesn’t leave his eye, doesn’t even dull. It’s just accompanied with agony.

Tony forces a smile onto his face. Tries to look reassuring as he lifts Peter’s head, carding a hand through his hair.

“He’s….gone?” It must hurt Peter to speak---a groan of pain escapes along with the words. Tony holds him closer, cradling his head in his arms, and tries to ignore the tremor that runs through the kid with each feeble cough of blood. 

“Yeah, Pete. You’re safe.”  
  
And with that, despite how much pain he’s in, despite his suffering and his fear and his exhaustion, all the tension drains from Peter’s body. He melts into Tony’s touch, so different from the harsh blows he’d been dealt only minutes before. Tony's stomach clenches.

Peter looks so comforted, so _relaxed_ in his mentor’s arms, that Tony wonders if he even realizes what’s about to happen.

The inevitable.

“Kid?” Tony rocks the two back and forth, forcing his eyes to hold Peter’s warm gaze.

_That’s right, Tones. Just focus on those wide brown eyes, and not the broken, shivering body beneath._

“Mm?”

“I love you too, you know that? Never said it enough before.”

Even Tony’s caught off guard by his own words. Peter pauses and quietly closes his eyes. For a minute, Tony thinks he’s gone, but then the kid blinks and stares dazedly back up at him.

“‘M sorry.”  
  
Peter lets out a weak cough, his head lolling to the side. Each breath is shallow, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. Tony combs his fingers through the kid’s sweat-soaked curls and swallows a sob. “Nothing to be sorry about, kiddo.”

“H-hurts.” He’s so _damn small._ “I’m c-cold…”  
  
“I know, I know. It’ll stop soon, okay? Just relax.” Tony fixes his eyes on Peter, memorizing every detail of his face. Preparing for what he knows will break him. “Don’t fight it, Pete. It’ll be over sooner.”

“M-May?” The kid’s voice is strained. “My friends---”

“I’ll take care of everyone, kid.” Tony pulls him closer against his chest.

The kid pauses.

“But who’s gonna take care of you?” Peter’s voice breaks. The older man lets him cry, hiding his own tears as he gently guides the kid’s head back up, just to see his eyes one last time. “I d-don’t wanna l-leave you alone.”

Peter’s so weak now. Tony can feel it, can feel the strength leaving the small body as it relaxes in his grip. With a soft groan, Peter’s head falls back, his eyes never leaving Tony’s gaze even as they slide slowly shut. He can see the light fading from them.

Tony can see him fighting it, the kid’s legs kicking weakly in protest. Peter’s hand lifts to grip a fistful of Tony’s shirt, but he doesn’t even have the strength to make it halfway up, and it falls limp by the time Tony notices.

When he looks back up at the kid’s face, he’s already too far to reach.

Peter’s features soften, as if in sleep. His lips are slightly parted, and Tony can see the exact moment they open to take his last breath. Peter’s chest slows to a stop, and with a final agonizing shudder, he’s still.

He’s gone.

 

 

* * *

 

   
  
Steve is too late.

The thought crushes him as he stumbles into the room, his eyes catching onto a body.

The body of a child whose life was beaten out of him.

Cradled by the man who lost him.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice shakes. The other man doesn’t even raise his head, just continues holding Peter, rocking the two back and forth.

Natasha’s the next to find them, then Wanda and Vision and Clint, Thor and Rhodey and Sam and Bucky. The Hulk files in last, green palms stained with blood. _Good._

Steve crumples. He’ll kill every last one of them.

“No…” Clint breathes, settling his bow down to stare at the kid. The archer truly looks lost, his eyes darkening as he realizes what’s been done. 

Peter’s absence stretches between them, his broken body sagging and limp in Tony’s arms.

Tears stain Wanda’s face as she kneels down and catches the kid’s cheek, swiping a thumb down a fresh tear track. God, Peter had _cried_ during his death. It wasn’t quick, or painless, or merciful. Peter had had time to _cry._

Thor sags against the wall and buries his face in his palms. Rhodey lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, swallowing hard.

Steve suddenly feels Bucky beside him, and he turns to see the other soldier trembling.

“Peter was just a _kid_.” Bucky’s voice is soft, gentle as it touches Peter’s name.

Steve can’t find the strength to answer.

Without a word, the Hulk moves forward, gently taking the small body in one of his hands. Nodding to Tony, he races off with the kid, too fast for anyone to stop or console.

They find Bruce Banner hours later, holding Peter’s body beside a deep hole in the ground.  
  
The Avengers bury their youngest member there four days later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter Samuel Stark is born on June 1st, 2023. Pepper dies in a car accident shortly after.

He eventually grows interested in technology, just like his father, although their relationship is anything but smooth.

Because Tony decides to stay away. He won’t repeat his mistakes a second time, won’t hurt another kid ever again.

So Peter Stark grows up without a father. Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy visit all the time, but…..they can’t stay forever. Can’t always shield his eyes when Tony downs another whiskey and Peter has to watch his eyes glaze over, his breaths turn shallow and tired and _sad_.

In the end, Tony was just like Howard, anyway.

One day, on his 21st birthday, father and son will have an explosive argument. Peter will ask Tony why he was never around. Why he never seemed to care about anything but his alcohol and his inventions and a single, beaten-up cardboard box he’s never let anyone else touch.

And, for the first time, Tony will tell Peter the truth.

He’ll tell his son the tale of his namesake, and he’ll open the box to reveal a single dusty suit, a LEGO set, and a collection of Star Wars movies.

And Peter will understand. They’ll watch all the movies and assemble every piece of that LEGO set, and Peter will try on the suit. Tony will tell him how good it looks.

That day, May Parker, gray-haired and tired and alone, will look out the window of Peter’s empty room from where she sits. She’ll see a flash of red swing through his city, and she’ll think of her child.

Ned Leeds will switch on his phone that morning, at breakfast with his wife and two children, and he’ll see a news report that Spider-Man is back. His family won’t ever know why he dropped his bowl of cereal that day, eyes wide and hands trembling, the memory of a lost childhood friendship resurfacing in his mind years later than it should’ve.

Because Peter is there with them with every moment, every breath they take---even when he isn’t taking any.

And Peter is there when Tony dies, surrounded by the rest of the Avengers and with his now 34-year-old son beside him.

 

 _“You named him after me?”_  
  
_“Eh. I just really like the name Peter, I guess.”_  
  
_Peter laughs. “I missed you up here, Mr. Stark.”_  
  
_“And where, exactly, is ‘here’?”_  
  
_The kid pauses, lifting his head to survey Tony’s gray hairs, the fine lines on his face and the tremble in his hands. And he smiles._

 _“Home._  
  
_We made it, Mr. Stark.”_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say, from the bottom of my heart,
> 
> my bad. 
> 
> (Parks and Rec reference to lighten the mood. Sorry, guys.)


End file.
